Wake up America
by Chucychito
Summary: Mattew understood. He really did. But a lizard? Alfred thinks Donald Trump is a lizard? In which Alfred discovers some conspiracies.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** if you're someone who follows my main story holy moly I am so sorry but this was important.

So guys it's 2017 and I just discovered Hetalia. No, I don't know where I've been either. In any case, this fic ensued. Right now I'm looking at just a two-shot but who knows what'll happen along the way.

Please don't take this seriously.

I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

At first, Matthew thinks his phone is malfunctioning when it starts shrieking an obnoxious tune in his pocket.

It surprises him so suddenly that he accidentally dumps the entire bottle of syrup onto the pancakes in front of him, but he consoles himself with the fact that they're pancakes and he'll eat them regardless.

He gingerly sets the now empty bottle aside and fumbles with his phone, but by the time he's able to see what the problem is the noise has already stopped.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Matthew makes to put it back down when the screen brightens and the wailing begins once more.

And then he realizes. Someone is calling him.

The number is one he doesn't recognize, but this particular fact doesn't surprise him, as seen by the complete lack of contacts in his phone's memory to begin with.

"Who?" Kumajiro asks curiously, and Matthew shrugs helplessly.

He tilts his head with a puzzled frown. He doesn't think anyone's called him... Ever. Whoever this is must have dialed the wrong number. He sighs, only feeling slightly disappointed. He should probably let them know.

"Hello- I think you have-" he doesn't even finish before the speaker on the other end interrupts- a common occurence in Matthew's life.

"Canada!" Matthew pulls the phone away from his face with a wince at the shout. "Boy, am I glad you answered!"

Matthew sputters and doesn't know what to say, because that voice sounded an awful lot like America's and did he just say he was glad that _Matthew_ answered?

"W-what? You're serious?"

'"Course I am!" America confirms brightly. "I wanted to talk to you!"

What?" Matthew repeats in bewilderment. "Why?"

"Lots of reasons! But the main thing-" America's voice trails off, and Matthew sits forward in sudden apprehension. Something must be seriously wrong if the other nation is actually thinking before he speaks.

Finally, America starts again. "Um, actually. I don't think I have the best reception. Maybe I should call you back in, like, five minutes?" He pauses. "Just... Not... With... This phone..."

Matthew feels like he's missing something. "A different number?"

"No-, well. Maybe it'd be easier to talk if we both used our old phones?"

Matthew is still hopelessly lost. "This is the only phone I've- OH, do you mean the-"

"Yes!" America emphatically interrupts. Once again. "Yes, that is exactly what I mean. I'll call you from that in five minutes."

Click.

Matthew stares at his phone for a few moments. He's not sure if he's ever been this confused in his life.

Of course, he's pretty sure he knows what America meant by "old phones". When they were much, much younger, and the two were still being governed by England, they'd set up a communication system hidden on each side of the border that consisted of nothing but two tin cans and a string so they could talk to each other when they couldn't be together. But he's sure those things would have worse reception than their cellphones did, and neither of them had used them since they'd grown up, so what was the point of this?

He casts a mournful look towards his stack of pancakes before sighng and getting up from the table. He tells Kumajiro that the bear can have them if he wants (no need to waste, and Matthew knows how much his friend likes to eat) and sets off to find his end of the connection.

* * *

Matthew waits fifteen extra minutes (not counting the half hour it took for him to actually find the device way out in the middle of nowhere) before he finally hears America speak through it.

"Sorry," he says, and his voice is much quieter (though maybe that's because he's talking through a string). "Took me a second to find it."

"Alfred, what's going on?" Matthew asks, then wonders belatedly if he's still allowed to call him "Alfred" and what the rules on that are.

Fortunately, Alfred either doesn't notice or doesn't care about that. "We couldn't talk on those phones because They might be listening and I don't want Them to know I've figured it out."

Matthew frowns again. "Who's They?"

"The government!" Alfred gives a shaky sigh. "Okay, so this might sound weird and crazy, but..." he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, and Matthew's shoulders are starting to hurt from how tense he's sitting. "I think that Donald Trump is a lizard."

Matthew blinks. Then blinks again.

He's sure he's heard that incorrectly.

"Matt?" Alfred frets on the other end. "You still there?"

"Can- can you repeat that, please?" Matthew asks politely.

"I said that I think my president is a lizard person but hey, wait, hear me out! I have some really important and undeniable facts!"

So, he wasn't imagining things, then. He's wholy unprepared for this.

"A lizard," Matthew repeats slowly, voice squeaking a bit.

He knew that Alfred had had some really conflicting feelings when the orange man had been elected, and that over the course of the few months they'd been working together those feelings had all but melted into sole contempt for the uneducated president. And Matthew understood. He really did. But a lizard? Alfred thinks Donald Trump is a _lizard_?

America's probably just playing a joke on him. That's exactly the kind of thing he'd do, and it's the only explanation that makes sense.

"Yes!" Alfred sounds mildly frustrated, and Matthew decides to quit talking and let his brother explain himself. "I swear, I was in a meeting with him the other day and I saw them! His eyes switched into a lizard's! And it's not just that! Why do you think his face is so orange? It's because he loads on the spray tan to cover up his green reptile skin!"

Alfred's beginning to sound rather hysteric, and Matthew feels that it's time to jump back in. "Hang on there. Maybe these are just coincidences."

"But if lizard people have infiltrated the government systems, it would explain how he won the elections in the first place! They must've rigged it!"

Matthew runs a tremorous hand through his hair and breathes deeply through his nose. He has to admit, Alfred is making some good points.

"And have you noticed how many times he sticks his tongue out when he's talking? It's like he's trying to catch flies or something!"

"Alfred, I don't think-"

"AND! Just look at his face! That's a lizard if I ever saw one! Not to mention his personality _is_ pretty reptilious..."

There's silence on the line between them for a good fifteen seconds.

"Oh my goodness, I think you might be right," Matthew breathes.

"Oh my God!" Alfred wails tragically, as if Matthew confirming his suspiscions only made them that much more real. "I knew it! I knew it oh my God what should I do-"

"Okay, first, we calm down," Matthew says in a voice that's anything but calm. "We need to think. What's our plan?"

"Um," Alfred sighs and considers for a moment, drawing out the "m" as he thinks. "We need more support," he finally admits decisively. "But we can do that tomorrow. In the mean time, I'm coming over tonight and we can watch some more conspiracies- I mean, _research the situation_."

"Good idea," Matthew agrees, voice slightly faint. He nods to himself, doing his best to come to terms with this entire situation. "Yes, that's a good idea," he repeats, though for all his effort it barely sounds any stronger.

"Good! See ya in a few lil' bro!"

Although there is no way of telling if Alfred hung up his end of the line, Matthew knows the conversation is over and sets down the can (still sparkingly clean and shiny- how did that work? It was centuries old!).

He knows he should probably be on his way home so he can clean up a bit before his brother arrives, but knowing Alfred's complete misconception of punctuality _and_ his ability to create a mess of a room simply by walking in it, Matthew decides that there's no rush, and takes a moment to reflect.

Donald Trump is a lizard. The president of the United States of America is, no doubt about it, a lizard person. The facts are there, right in front of them. And now it's up to them to do something about it.

Matthew sighs dramatically and slowly climbs to his feet. He doesn't really know where he stands in all this, but for the moment he's content to just back Alfred up and help him search for possible clues and/or a plan of action.

With that thought in mind, he determinedly begins the long trek back to his house.

* * *

 **3:12 A.M.**

Matthew turns his face away from the computer screen with a grimace, clutching at Alfred's arm with a renewed sense of fear.

"It makes sense," Alfred murmurs with a haunted expresssion, glancing down in dawning horror to look at Matthew. "I _do_ remember it as Beren _stein_ , not Beren _stain_!"

Matthew takes a deep, solemn breath and meets Alfred's gaze unflinchingly. "Wake up, America," he whispers.

Alfred cringes away. "I'm woke!" He promises, though if sounds more like sobbing. "I'm woke! I promise I'm woke!"

Seeing no better option, Matthew sobs with him, the two holding onto each other in the dark living room as the laptop in front of them continues spouting out the conspiracies.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning is spent compiling a list of potential conspiracy-related issues over a breakfast of pancakes and syrup (it wasn't like the bottle Matthew had spilled the other day wasn't one of hundreds stocked in his refrigerator). They manage to develop quite the account before it's off to the airport to enlist the help of one of Alfred's friends. He doesn't elaborate on who, exactly, they're going to meet, but Matthew isn't concerned. For how much Alfred likes to boast about how many countries are his friend, Matthew is still confident that there's only two possible places they could be headed in a situation such as this.

He's proven correct when they step off the plane in Tokyo, Japan.

"It's late here," Matthew comments, fiddling with the sleeve of his sweatshirt a bit nervously. He doesn't want to bother the other nation when he would normally be sleeping.

"Ah, don't worry," says Alfred without the least bit of contrition. "He always answers the door when he's home."

Matthew thinks back to listening to a dejected France complaining about how Japan wouldn't give him the time of day after traveling all the way there to visit and compares it to Alfred's confidant remark. He wonders if there's something he's missing.

Despite the fact that Matthew is completely lost among the streets of Japan's capital city, Alfred maneuvers them almost as easily as his own, and drags his brother along at a quick pace that has Matthew stumbling every few steps.

"Hang on, Al," Matthew tries to protest breathlessly.

"We're almost there," Alfred promises.

It's another five minutes or so of twists and turns and finally they're standing before an unassuming traditional-style Japanese house that's slightly set apart from the others.

"Here we are!" Alfred declares brightly, before stepping forward and knocking loudly on the door (Matthew winces at the impoliteness.) "Kiku! Dude, it's me!"

"Alfred," Matthew sighs weakly.

They're only waiting for another second before the door slides open, revealing a slightly-disheveled personification of Japan.

"America-san?" he asks in mild confusion, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses. He notices Matthew hovering behind Alfred's shoulder and tilts his head. "And Canada-san? What are you two doing here?"

Alfred's grin slides a bit. "Dude, what did I say about the formalities? We're friends; just call me Alfred."

Japan's face colors a bit, and he nods. "I am sorry, Alfred. And..." He glances uncertainly at Matthew, as if unsure what to call him.

"Matthew," Matthew offers.

Kiku nods again. "Matthew." He opens the door a bit wider- an invitation for the two to enter.

Alfred's smile returns full-force and he gladly steps inside. "Man, I'm so glad you're here and not at your other house. That would've been a lot more walking."

Matthew stares at Alfred incredulously. He hadn't even known if the other nation would be here?

"Yes, about that," Kiku closes the door and turns to face Alfred and Matthew, eyeing the two carefully. "What brings you two here tonight? I was not expecting visitors- please excuse the mess."

(There's a single teacup on the table. A ball of fur that Matthew can't entirely identify as either a cat or a dog lays on a stray blanket in the corner of the room. The rest is spotless.)

For a moment, Matthew swears Alfred looks guilty, but the expression is gone faster than it came. "Sorry, dude, but oh man, it's crazy important." He pulls out the paper they'd written everything down on and opens it with a flourish. "So, first of all, we have reason to believe that Donald Trump is a lizard person."

Kiku looks startled, and Matthew, for his part, feels bad that he hadn't somehow given him any warning.

"Your president?"

Alfred winces at the title, but nods regardless. "Yeah, that guy."

Kiku glances at Matthew is if to confirm that yes, this is why the two countries had shown up at his house at such an unreasonable hour. Matthew shrugs.

"It makes sense," he admits quietly.

Kiku rubs blearily at his eyes again, exhaustion renewed. "You're serious."

"Yes! I mean, I know it's hard to believe, and Mattie wasn't convinced at first either, but just hear me out."

Kiku's face is still impassive as he thinks on how to respond. Usually, he's the first to agree with the boisterous young nation, but this is something he just can't bring himself to enable. "Maybe I should stop lending you mangas," he says softly, in such a way that displays he's seriously blaming himself and feels guilty for it.

"What? No! That has nothing to do with it!" Alfred looks hurt. "I have proof!" he shakes the paper in his hand again. "I saw his eyes change at a meeting the other day! I'm pretty sure human eyes don't do that."

Kiku sighs and sits down in resignation, knowing this is probably going to be a long night. "Perhaps it was a trick of the light."

Alfred falters, but continues valiantly, taking a seat beside Kiku. "And his orange skin? It's to hide his reptile-ly scales!"

"Or he just used too much spray-tan."

"But it would make sense if he was a lizard!" Alfred protests. "Otherwise how could he have beaten Chillary Clinton? She had the majority vote."

"Your government is a very confusing system," Kiku insists. "I am sure there is another explanation than that he is a lizard."

Matthew can feel his heart sinking with each rebuttal Kiku counters with. It all sounded so convincing yesterday...

"But his personality!" Alfred sounds practically manic, latching a hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "You can't explain that one away!"

"Well, I-" Kiku breaks off with a frown.

Matthew and Alfred wait with baited breath for a few moments in which Kiku seems to be thinking it over before he hesitantly speaks again. "Oh no."

"Ha!" Alfred shouts in glee, shaking the shoulder he's still hanging on to. "You believe me now?"

Kiku looks a bit flustered but doesn't request that Alfred quit touching him, and Matthew has to hide a grin in the sleeve of his hoodie (the smile fades quickly when he realizes there's no reason to hide it when neither of them are paying attention to him).

"I cannot disprove your theory," Kiku admits.

Alfred lets out another cry of victory before pausing abruptly. "Wait; that's not a good thing. What are we gonna do?"

"You were correct; this is urgent," Kiku concedes seriously. He leans forward as he thinks about their options, and Alfred's arm bends with the movement. "You must make sure he is being filmed almost all the time," he suggests. "That way, we can watch the footage and see if his eyes really do change like you said." At Alfred's betrayed expression, he hurries to say, "Not to say that I don't believe your claim, but it is best to have physical evidence."

"Yeah, and then what?" Alfred asks, leaning back on his knees (Matthew notes that his brother still hasn't removed his hand from Kiku's shoulder). "If we get our proof, what do we do? I can't just tell my whole country that they elected a freaking reptile!"

"We kill him." Matthew's as surprised as the other two that it's him that voices this suggestion. "Or, you know, get him to resign," he adds quickly at their shocked silence.

"Blackmail?" Kiku offers, not before shooting a wary glance in Matthew's direction.

"But we don't want to get on the reptile community's bad side," Alfred protests.

"Reptile community," Kiku repeats, and it was probably supposed to sound like a question but it comes out as more of a flat statement.

"Well, there can't just be one of 'em," Alfred points out. "How could it be that the only lizard shapeshifter on the planet just so happened to become the president of my country? And with as bad a campaign as his."

"Yikes," Matthew whispers.

"You may be right," Kiku frowns pensively. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm trying to remember which anime dealt with this type of situation the best..."

"We're basing our plans off an anime?" Matthew asks uncertainly.

"Any better ideas?" Alfred shoots a glance at his brother. "That don't involve assassination?"

Matthew falls quiet.

Kiku looks back up with a solemn expression. "Perhaps… We should seek other opinions on the matter."

* * *

Here I am, updating this yet again before my other fic. I am so sorry.

This was supposed to be the last chapter, but then I got carried away with the plot and who knows where it'll go from here.

As always, comments are always appreciated :)


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